The past few days had settled into a new routine. Mornings started with breakfast alongside my companions, where conversations ranged from casual updates to deep discussions about builds, strategies, or the latest news and gossip. Strangely, there had been no mention of the Deepnest Tunnel incident anywhere. It made me speculate—either Blackrock had covered their tracks too well, or they had powerful connections within the Royal Palace. After all, the disappearance of an entire Royal Guard unit stationed at the tunnel’s far end should have made the headlines, even if only briefly. Yet, not a whisper of information had surfaced.

  After breakfast, I would stop by various equipment shops, checking for any Druid-specific gear—so far, with no success—before making my way to the Grand Library. One of the biggest advantages of living in the city center was easy access to all these locations, saving valuable time. In the late afternoons, I sometimes wandered the Eastern District, keeping my ears open for any chatter about Blackrock. The slums were often a breeding ground for underground rumors.

  In the game, many side quests and hidden clues about illicit activities, particularly those opposing the Royal Palace, could be found in the Eastern District. I spent my time lurking in shady pubs and shadowed alleyways, draped in a long robe with a hood pulled over my head to avoid recognition, listening in on whispered conversations. Unfortunately, nothing substantial had come up yet.

  Today marked the fifth day since my return from the Tower. It was time to check in on my little protégé, Samus Xavier. As usual, every Saturday, we met at the Adventurer’s Training Grounds.

  "Hi, Sir Erynd! It’s great to see you again! Did you manage to get the Soul Fragment you were after?" As always, he was waiting for me at the entrance right on time, exactly at three o’clock. His face lit up with excitement the moment he spotted me, his bright eyes full of curiosity.

  I smiled. "What about you? Has your control improved? Last time, you promised you’d be able to handle Aqua Whip properly."

  "Hehehe, you better be ready to be amazed! I’ve been practicing day and night!" he boasted proudly. Then, with a mischievous grin, he added, "But in return, you have to tell me every little detail about your latest expedition! Promise?"

  Listening to his excited, childlike enthusiasm, it would be hard to believe that Samus was actually a genius wizard in the making.

  ***

  I have always been amazed by his progress. Aqua Whip, which he once struggled to control, now moved fluidly as if it were an extension of his own body. His other spells had also shown remarkable improvement. He had successfully condensed Fireball, increasing its damage within a smaller radius—a feat even seasoned wizards would struggle to achieve.

  Unfortunately, for now, Sam was still limited to basic spells. That was inevitable, considering that advanced spells were closely guarded secrets of the Wizard Academy. Learning them independently required special techniques that were taught only within its halls. In the game, a wizard could only acquire advanced spells by visiting the Academy, even if they already possessed the corresponding spellbook. Likewise, in this world, no one could learn advanced magic outside the Academy. Even books accessible to the public rarely contained information about high-level magic. And even if they did, the details were often vague.

  My knowledge from the game was of little use here. In the game, learning a spell was as simple as taking the spellbook to the Academy and acquiring it instantly. There was no explanation of the actual process. The best I could do for Sam was provide a list of advanced spells along with their detailed effects. But so far, I had only given him a small selection, careful not to arouse suspicion.

  Our two-hour training session came to an end, and we left the training grounds together. Normally, we would part ways here, but today was different. I decided to walk Sam home.

  We talked at length as we made our way toward the Eastern District, covering all sorts of topics, including the latest rumors circulating in the area. There was talk of a rebellion brewing among adventurers who had failed to meet their quotas, rumors of underground fight tournaments, and even heated discussions about Xander the Crazed Butcher, a name that had recently been making waves.

  The journey was long, making me realize just how far Sam had to travel each time he ventured into the city center.

  "Hey, you. Haven’t seen you around here before. Spare me some stones, would ya?" A sudden voice interrupted our conversation.

  A ragged-looking middle-aged man blocked our path. The stench of alcohol wafted from his unwashed body, mixing with the sour odor of sweat. His tattered clothing barely clung to his frame, and his thick, unkempt beard made him look even more disheveled. A faded emblem was pinned to his chest, barely recognizable.

  "Move aside, old man," I said coldly, my gaze sharp and unwavering. In this district, showing weakness was dangerous.

  "H-Hi, Sir Luther. He’s with me—he’s just walking me home," Sam quickly explained.

  "Tch, still need someone to walk you home? What are you, a kid?" the drunkard scoffed, though he slowly stepped aside.

  "You're lucky to be with this good kid, City Boy. Don’t forget to bring me some Mana Stones next time. Booze works too, ho ho ho," he chuckled before staggering away.

  As we continued walking, Sam told me a bit about the man. Apparently, he was once a high-ranking figure in the Royal Palace. But due to a single mistake, he had been cast out and forced to live in the Eastern District. Like most of the people here, he had struggled to meet the kingdom’s harsh quotas and faced severe penalties, leaving him to survive in destitution. Many had lost all hope, resigned to a miserable existence—just like the man we had just encountered.

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  "We're here! Thank you for walking me home, Sir Erynd. I hope I wasn’t a bother!" Sam said cheerfully.

  I looked at his home—or rather, what could barely be called a home. A tiny shack stood before me, its walls riddled with holes large enough to see through. Inside, I could make out a single small bed and a worn-out wardrobe. There was no sign of a kitchen or a bathroom. My eyes drifted to a small pile of eating utensils left on the ground near the entrance.

  The stark contrast to my current life was unsettling. Even compared to my life in the world before this one… perhaps it hadn’t been so bad after all.

  After escorting Sam home, I retraced my steps, weaving through the winding alleys of the Eastern District. The air was thick with the scent of damp stone and unwashed bodies, a stark contrast to the bustling heart of the city. My hood remained drawn low over my face as I made my way through the usual haunts—dimly lit pubs, shadowed corners, and the hidden pockets of the district where whispered rumors thrived.

  As I passed a familiar alleyway, I spotted the old man from earlier sprawled against a crumbling wall, his bottle long emptied, his breaths slow and heavy. His once-proud emblem, now faded and torn, glinted faintly under the lantern light. For a brief moment, a pang of sympathy flickered in my chest. To fall from power to this… what had he done to deserve such a fate?

  But I pushed the thought aside. Pity wouldn’t serve me here.

  ***

  Days passed quickly, and in a few days, the Tower would open once again. We were gathered at home, each of us eager to show off our preparations, the air buzzing with excitement and anticipation.

  "Look at this! I won it at an auction!" Muradin boasted, holding up a small, semi transparent white orb between his thick fingers. His broad grin stretched across his bearded face, eyes gleaming with pride. "Unfortunately, I can't use it yet. There's no way I'm giving up my Shield Bash or Quickdraw."

  Since the last exploration, we had become more open about our abilities—a necessity if we wanted to strategize effectively. Understanding each other's strengths and weaknesses could mean the difference between survival and failure inside the Tower.

  "Erynd, do you know what this is?" Darwyn’s voice cut in, drawing my attention. He lifted his wrist, displaying a finely crafted bracelet adorned with intricate runes. His excitement was palpable. Before I could even respond, he continued, "With this, I can increase my Sticky Bomb charges from seven to twelve! Imagine the damage I could deal!" He grinned, admiring his new equipment like a child with a new toy.

  Wyrmstone Bracelet. I recognized it immediately. This item was a game-changer for certain skills. Normally, Sticky Bomb had seven charges that could be deployed without cooldown. Once depleted, the skill became unusable until at least one charge was replenished—a process that took agonizingly long in battle. This bracelet would give Darwyn nearly double the firepower before needing to wait.

  Not wanting to be left out, Orin smirked and raised her hand. She concentrated for a moment, and suddenly, a potion materialized in her palm as if plucked from thin air. "Hehe, cool, right?" she beamed. "I spent a fortune on this sub-space storage—which is absorbed to my body. Now, I don’t have to worry about my storage breaking again like last time."

  "But you learned a new spell too, didn’t you?" I asked, crossing my arms.

  "Of course!" She flashed a mischievous grin, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement. "Now, I can use offensive magic! Just imagine the devastation I’ll bring!"

  Darwyn chuckled and ruffled his younger sister Elena’s hair. "Elena has also learned a few utility spells—like Illumne, the same one I use, and Obscura. They’ll be handy in the Tower."

  Elena blushed deeply, lowering her gaze. "It’s not that impressive..." she mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve.

  The conversation soon turned lively, filled with laughter and friendly banter. As they talked, I took a moment to observe my team, reflecting on how much we had all grown.

  Muradin, my first companion, stood out with his sturdy dwarf build. His large black eyes and prominent nose gave him a rugged yet friendly charm, setting him apart from most dwarves who often carried a stern disposition. His thick beard and slicked-back black hair framed his face, and while he was a little bit short as the typical dwarf, he had a stocky, well-muscled frame. His tanned skin was likely from years of standing near blazing forges, crafting weapons. His strength was undeniable, but what truly defined him was his unwavering loyalty. He was the heart of our group—the one who kept morale high with his humor yet would throw himself into danger without hesitation to protect us.

  Darwyn, on the other hand, was the epitome of elven grace. Tall and athletic, his every movement was fluid and precise. His sharp, emerald-green eyes seemed to assess everything around him with a calculated gaze. With his high cheekbones, sharp jawline, and high-bridged nose, he was the kind of elf women probably swooned over. His long, pointed ears twitched slightly whenever he was deep in thought.

  Despite his striking looks, he was far from the typical arrogant elf; his relaxed nature and occasional recklessness made him surprisingly easy to get along with. But when it came to battle, he was a force to be reckoned with—deadly and efficient.

  Elena shared many of her brother’s features, though her presence was far quieter. Tall and slender like Darwyn, her delicate face mirrored his, but where he exuded confidence, she carried a timid, reserved air. Her shyness was evident in how she avoided prolonged eye contact, often tucking a stray strand of her light brown hair behind her ear.

  However, beneath her quiet nature lay hidden talents—cooking, appraising items, and an ability to recall even the most obscure information. She had grown more comfortable with us, especially with Orin, and the two had developed a bond over discussions that seemed exclusive to women.

  Then there was Orin. Like me, she looked young for human standard, her small frame making her seem even more childlike. Even for a druid, she was tiny—barely reaching my shoulder. But what she lacked in size, she made up for in energy. She was a whirlwind of enthusiasm, bouncing from one topic to the next with boundless excitement. Her big, round blue eyes and small button nose made her look even younger, but her wide, mischievous grin often gave away her true nature.

  She was feisty, sometimes unpredictable, but undeniably cute and adorable in her own way.

  Wait, what the hell am I thinking?

  I quickly shook the thought from my mind, only to hear Muradin’s teasing voice. "Oi, why's your face all red? We haven't even started drinking yet!"

  I coughed, grabbing my drink to hide my flustered expression. "Ahem. It's just... kinda warm in here."

  Laughter erupted around the room, and I found myself smiling along with them. This was my team—my companions. And somehow, without realizing it, I had grown attached to them. A renewed sense of determination filled me. If I wanted to protect them, I had to get stronger.

  As the sun dipped lower in the sky, a shadow stretched across the floor. The time had come. One last meeting with Sam—before I stepped into the Tower of Ascension once more. I could feel it. The weight of the promise I had to keep… but would I be able to?

  real description of Ironwood members!

  me.